Flaired jeans weren't pulled up
Since old Lassie was a pup,
But a bell bottom, somehow, just suits me
Fad's faded, long dead
Blaze a path where I'm led
Inborn stubbornness kicks up and boots me

Hair was crew cut "64"
Been my style, forevermore
Doesn't matter if friends say. "Plain hoakie."
Old habits die hard,
Like Bruce Willis, charred.,
Or Merle Haggard's Muskogie'n Okie

I image old rides
To please my own "Satisfieds"
Not some cheesehead who flaunts in Wisconsin
A unique ind'vidual,
I put up with no bull
Best to leave, undisturbed, my Charles Bronson

TV Land gets waves,
Old Andy Griffith is faves
Love the antics of Opie's and Gomer's
And no show's more fun,
Than cartoon, Roadrun--
Or old sports reels of Babe Ruth's great homers

I wheel a white Edsel
With that big "O" mouthed grille
Cruise it slow..keep the speed crazies trailing
When they fin'lly pass,
Hear terms like, "DUMB ASS!"
From their windows flicked finger birds flailing

At home decor,
I'm a real Art Deco whore
This old couch prob'lly hails from the "Twenties"
Has deep wine mohair..
And both arms worn bare,
Beneath cushions, find Indian head pennies..

In the bathroom there sits..a cast iron clawfoot tub
Wife says, let's buy a nice plastic blue one..
I nix that idea,
Who needs it in here?
This old boat still scrubs butts like a new one..

And my musical taste, could be labeled a waste
Of eardrums and good sense of hearing
The closet holds crates..
Of old scratched disks, "Seven-Eights"
Keeps, when played late at night, neighbors swearing

Does anyone know where the thrill for "New" goes
As the demons of wrinkle and age touch?
Wise prophets might say..
It's the world and it's way,
That us oldsters, for change, do not care much.

But not to say all..not my wife's, Hannah's call
She'd outspend Donald Trump if I'd let her
That I fire these shots,
Is a trait, might irk some, lots..
But in the kitchen, at cookin'..she's better

Our old home style..keeps me true to "The Aisle"
That was treaded so many years prior
She'll sanction my schemes,
Of old fashioned dreams,
When I spark her with romantic fire..

For everyone knows, lang-uage of love glows
And turns all that's ancient to glitter
Solid rock, man and wife,
Describes me and the wife
You won't find this devotion on Twitter..

At our musty old home, in Detroit, we stay
Precious married time rarely depresses
Since church bells chimed ..
In the year, "Fifty-nine"
It's meant much more than rings and white dresses,,

Our legend lives on..and gets stronger with each dawn
This, in spite of my moods, "Stubborn-grumpy"
Superior, friends say...
Labels our marriage way
As we dodge all that's rocky..., and bumpy..